Henry narrates the ritual for us with a series of shamanistic platitudes: The spirits have accepted our offering, they will guide us and protect us as we climb the mountain, etc. I find it difficult to pay attention. The slow-motion slaughter leaves my eyes wet and my stomach churning. I wasn?t nearly as affected by the cockfights in Manila, which had a cruel, sporting logic that I could at least begin to understand. But this ceremony, done solely for the benefit of some imaginary beings, makes no sense to me. After a while I turn away, and fixate on a poster tacked up above the bloody table. It shows an assortment of dogs and cats in a grassy field decorated with flowers and jewelry. There's a trio of kittens tucked into a tiny bed, and what looks like a Golden Retriever in a shirt and tie, holding a long-stemmed rose between its teeth. At the bottom of the image it says, "PUPPIES & FRIENDS."
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